False Nine

4

Two weeks later, after a blissful Christmas holiday with Louise in Australia at the Tower Lodge in New South Wales, I was back in Shanghai.

It wasn’t just the money that had persuaded me — although that was persuasive enough. It was the chance to be in at the beginning of something important in English football. He’d dropped a few broad hints about the club he was thinking of buying which sounded to me a lot like Leeds. I hoped it would be Leeds. Leeds was the only big club that really deserved to be back in the Premier League. After all, they had been one of the original twenty-two clubs that had voted to form the Premier League. And I could see no real reason why, with the right amount of investment, Leeds — the sleeping giant of the Championship — could not be the great team they had once been. It had worked for Manchester City. Elland Road was already the second largest football stadium outside the Premier League, with almost 38,000 capacity. That was bigger than White Hart Lane.

At Pudong International Airport I was met by an Oddjob-type driver and one of Jia’s beautiful PR girls, who escorted me back to the Hyatt. The girl’s name was Dong Xiaolian and she spoke perfect, unaccented English. In the back seat of Jia’s Rolls-Royce she told me of the schedule of events that lay ahead of us that day. It all sounded very exciting but even before the car was moving things started to go wrong. She handed me an email from Tempest sent to the hotel which confirmed what I suspected: that the million pound signing-on fee had still not been paid.

‘In the afternoon we have a press conference at the hotel with all the major Chinese media,’ explained Dong. ‘I will be your interpreter. I have a Master’s degree in English literature. I am self-employed and you should regard me as being at your personal disposal while you are in Shanghai. At least until you can find a full-time interpreter. Which I am also prepared to do. I will do anything you want me to do, Mr Manson. Anything at all. Anything. You will only have to ask.’

‘There is something,’ I said. ‘I haven’t been paid. There was a signing-on fee of one million pounds which hasn’t yet appeared in my account. It was supposed to have been paid by the time I arrived here in Shanghai.. Which is disturbing, to say the least.’

‘I shall speak to Mr Jia about this immediately we get to the hotel,’ said Dong.

‘Thank you.’ I glanced over the schedule she had given me. ‘What’s this here?’ I asked. ‘A medical? I’m going to manage, not play.’

‘Before you start work you must have a medical examination to make sure that you don’t have Ebola or HIV.’

‘You’ve got to be joking.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s standard practice for all African men who wish to work in China.’

‘I’m not African,’ I said. ‘I’m British. Or, to be one hundred per cent accurate, Scots-German. On my passport it says that my place of birth is Edinburgh. That’s Edinburgh in Scotland, not Edinburgh in South Africa. And I’m certainly not going to have a test for Ebola and HIV. You can forget about that for a start.’

‘A black man who comes from Scotland? This is a subtlety that Chinese people and more importantly the Chinese authorities will not understand. The tests are mandatory, I’m afraid. Chinese people think all black men have Aids. And now Ebola, too. It will be necessary for you to obtain a work permit in China to show that you are not a health hazard.’

‘This is insulting,’ I said.

‘Nevertheless, it is the law. All foreigners but especially blackies who play for Chinese football clubs have to be tested. Please understand that I don’t think you have Aids or Ebola. I should certainly not be sitting in the car with you if I thought you had Ebola. Not for one minute. Nor should I have offered to sleep with you if I thought you had HIV.’

I shook my head. ‘Did you offer to sleep with me?’

‘Of course. That is what I’m paid to do.’

‘Why?’

‘As well as being an interpreter I am also an escort. And don’t worry, I had an HIV test yesterday, so you could be quite sure I am one hundred per cent healthy. I will show you the certificate when we get to the hotel.’

‘There won’t be any need for that, Dong. Look, I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us. I think you’re very nice but the only service I require from you will be to interpret for me at this press conference.’

‘Are you sure? I will give you a very great deal of pleasure.’

‘I think there has been a mistake. I have a girlfriend back in London. She trusts me — more or less — not to misbehave when I am away from home. You understand?’ I wasn’t sure that this was actually the case; Louise and I had never discussed the issue of my fidelity or hers, but I wanted to get past this embarrassing situation with the least offence possible.

Dong nodded. ‘Pity,’ she said. ‘I find you very attractive. For a blackie. I never had one before. They say once you’ve had black, you never go back, yes?’

‘Well, you’ll just have to wait a while longer for that pleasure. With me it’s all strictly business, all right? No hanky-panky.’

‘What is hanky-panky?’

‘Never mind. You just see what’s happened to my money, all right? And please don’t ever refer to me again as a blackie. I don’t know where you obtained your degree in English literature but this is a very offensive way of describing someone who is black.’

‘I apologise. I meant no offence. Frankly I thought it was a term of affection. Like Frenchy. Or Jerry. Do Germans mind being called Jerries?’

‘That’s different. Blackie isn’t as bad as some other words perhaps, but it’s still racist.’

‘But surely you know by now that all Chinese people are racist by nature.’

‘I’m beginning to.’

‘Perhaps I should tell you that most nightclubs in Shanghai are a no-go area for blacks. The doormen assume they are all drug dealers and forbid them entry.’

‘That won’t be a problem for me, Dong. I don’t much like nightclubs.’

‘The players do.’

‘They won’t be going to nightclubs either, Dong. I tend to believe that sportsmen should treat their bodies with respect. This means no smoking and no drinking.’

Dong laughed. ‘But everyone smokes in China. Especially sportsmen.’

‘So I noticed.’

I didn’t say much more until we got to the hotel but once there things swiftly went from bad to worse. The Chairman’s Suite I’d had the time before was no longer available. They offered me a standard room with an en-suite bathroom which was a long way from the Presidential Suite with its own kitchen, dining room and the best view in Shanghai. When I rang down to reception they told me this was the only room they had; then they asked me how long I would be staying as the room was booked for only two nights. Even more perplexing was the discovery that I was paying my own hotel bill. By now I was beginning to feel as if I’d made a serious mistake, but it was only when I spoke to Dong and asked her to have Mr Jia call me that I began to think that something was seriously wrong.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Mr Jia is out of town. His secretary says he was called away unexpectedly on business last night, to Hong Kong. And that he won’t be back for two whole days.’

‘So, he won’t be at the press conference in...’ I glanced at my wristwatch. ‘In fifty minutes’ time?’

‘He has sent you a text to apologise,’ said Dong.

‘A text. Oh well, that makes everything just fine.’ I looked at my phone. ‘Now if I can only get some reception then I’ll be able to read it.’

‘But she did assure me that the money is being paid in to your account today.’

‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’

‘We should go to Gemini now,’ she said.

‘Gemini?’

‘This is what the Hyatt hotel calls one of its many conference rooms.’

‘Seems appropriate.’

‘How is that?’

‘Gemini has two faces, doesn’t it? Never mind.’

‘It’s on the second floor. All the Shanghai press and television have been invited. Already this is a big story. Apparently the previous manager did not know he was to be fired. Outside Gemini you will meet other people from the club, I think. They will introduce themselves. One of our top television people, Yuan Ming, will be there to introduce you. She hosts the Chinese equivalent of Match of the Day. Our version of Gabby Logan, yes?’

I nodded, not quite sure if Gabby Logan had anything to do with MOTD any more but it hardly seemed relevant right now to question this.

I was on my way down to the Gemini room when Tempest O’Brien rang me on my mobile.

‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning,’ she said.

‘There’s not much reception here,’ I said. ‘At least not on my phone. I hope you’re ringing me to say that the money is now in my account.’

‘No. It’s not. I don’t know what to tell you. It’s not like Mr Jia hasn’t got the money, either. Everyone I know in the business world says the same thing: that he’s a billionaire several times over. But there’s another problem, too. I had a phone call from a friend of mine who lives in Beijing. According to him you told a newspaper that Chinese referees are all crooked and don’t know their offsides from their elbows.’

‘Of course I didn’t. Why would I do that? Especially now. Even if it was true.’

‘The Chinese Football Association is pretty pissed off about it.’

‘If I’d said it, I wouldn’t blame them. But I didn’t. Look, I’ll have to call you back. I’m about to go into a press conference. I’ll call you when it’s over.’

Dong led me to a room at the back of Gemini where several Chinese men and one very glamorous television presenter were awaiting my arrival. The men were wearing Xuhui tracksuits and were, it seemed, part of the coaching staff, although it was rather hard to tell since none of them spoke English. All of them were smoking. We all bowed to each other politely, shook hands, exchanged business cards, and one of the men handed me a tracksuit top with the club crest on the chest and I put it on. Then we went into the conference room where we took our seats behind a long table in front of almost a hundred newsmen and women. The room was decked out in Shanghai Xuhui’s copycat Barcelona colours which did nothing to restore my faith in these proceedings: I was beginning to regret my decision to work for a football team that looked very like the equivalent of a fake Rolex.

Even as Yuan Ming started to speak, my mind was in a state of turmoil about what to do. I might have overlooked almost everything — the casual racism, the mistake with my hotel room, the request for a medical examination, the absence of the club’s proprietor at the press conference announcing my appointment — if the money had been paid into my account as had been agreed. That really rankled with me, especially after all Jia’s remarks about the importance of money in the modern game. And finally I could stand it no longer. I interrupted Yuan Ming and announced that I’d changed my mind — that I wouldn’t be joining Shanghai Xuhui after all. I spent a few minutes giving my reasons, after which the press conference broke up in some disarray and, ignoring the many questions that were being fired at me, I quickly made my exit. It all looked like that stupid commercial for Chanel Bleu when the prat with the nose says, ‘I’m not going to be the person I’m expected to be any more’ — or some such bollocks — and one of the girls in the audience swoons at this show of Gallic individuality.

I kept on thinking that Brian Clough had lasted forty-four days at Leeds United; I hadn’t even lasted forty-four minutes.

I returned to my room where I sent an email to Tempest telling her what I’d done and spent the next half an hour booking a return flight to London. Then I poured myself a drink, drank it and lay down on the bed and told myself that this nightmare would soon be over. Maybe I’d be able to laugh it off when I was back in London but right now I couldn’t have felt more depressed.